


Mistakes Were Made

by geoduckdude



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Iceland is a fucking mess of a person and America isn't much better, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, stupid teen nations making bad choices, trans Iceland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geoduckdude/pseuds/geoduckdude
Summary: When Iceland hooks up with America at a party it starts a chain of events that could put an end to one of his best-kept secrets.





	1. The party

Iceland had dressed and acted like a boy for most of History. At first, the other Nordics brushed it off, assuming that their little sister simply wanted to be included in the sausage fest that was the rest of Europe. However, as Iceland aged it became apparent that there was more to their fashion choices than met the eye.

By 15 Iceland had made it clear that he was  _not_  a girl. He threw fits when Norway asked him to wear dresses to balls, refused to eat dinner when the other Nordics slipped and called him 'sister', bound his chest tight with rags even when, to his brothers horror, his ribs broke from the pressure of the cloth, and boldly claimed that he was 'more of a man then Denmark could ever be'. As the 17th century dwindled on the older Nordics realized that the only solution to these problems was acceptance. They worked hard to be supportive, making sure to refer to Iceland as a boy, hiding his assigned gender from the other nations, providing him with men's clothing when needed, but even with his family behind him, it was clear that Iceland was floundering. He had no friends who shared his experiences and no vocabulary to describe himself. This fact left him feeling isolated and alone, and left the rest of the Nordics feeling frustrated and guilty at their inability to care for their youngest brother.

But luckily for all of them, this problem worked itself out about halfway through the 19th century when Iceland was finally gifted with a word he'd been searching for for decades.

"Transsexual," he announced, slamming his hands down flat on the dining table, "that's the word."

"The word for what?" Finland asked the rest of the Nordics looked up from their coffee.

"For people like me. For people who have one set of parts, but feel like they should have the other."

The other Nordics all nodded, glad that Iceland finally had a word to describe himself.

About two decades later, during a conversation about gender equality, the older four learned a new term.

"You must have some opinions Ice," Denmark commented, "I mean you  _are_  transsexual."

"Dan!" Norway scolded, "you can't just say thing like that!"

Iceland ignored both of them, and instead mumbled out a single word.

"Transgender."

"Huh?"

"You shouldn't say transexual anymore, you should say transgender. It's a more accurate term."

"Oh alright."

So the older Nordics corrected their terminology and moved on with life.

As the world moved into the 21st century, Iceland went on hormone replacement therapy. His voice deepened, his muscles grew, and as his body changed he became more comfortable with himself. It was clear to his brothers as his confidence grew, that is was what Iceland needed to be happy, and it made them all incredibly glad that they now lived in a time where he could be himself. Even if that meant hiding a few things from the other nations.

* * *

******America's house, modern day******

The music thumped through the crowded house erratically. The air smelled like booze and weed, the floor was covered in a slimy cocktail of spilled drinks and there, in the middle of it all, was Iceland. Iceland, who was drunk on Kentucky bourbon and in the middle of a heavy petting session with the United States of America.

Tomorrow morning Iceland would insist that he never did things like this. He would claim that he wasn't thinking straight, that he was a good kid who only went to parties once in a blue moon and who really just liked to read, knit and keep out of trouble. Tomorrow morning America would believe him because Iceland  _was_  a good kid who loved books and knitting and they had both been too drunk for reason. But tonight- tonight Iceland was brave on too many drinks and he was straddling a superpower on top of a pool table

"Ice," Alfred moned, flipping them around so he was on top, "You're real hot."

He leaned down and gave the younger man's neck a series of wet, slobbery kisses, before drunkenly fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. The other people in the room didn't notice, they were all to sloshed, too stoned, or too involved in their own make-out sessions to care.

"Takk," Iceland mumbled, carding his fingers through the other nations hair in a way that seemed more urgent than intimate, "you are too."

America gave him a lustful smirk before reaching his hands down Iceland's skinny jeans to grope at him.

"Hey man, where's your dick?" America asked after a few seconds, looking up at his bedmate with confusion.

"I sold it to a sea witch for a cool rock."

America snorted, "that's one hell of a story bro."

"Yeah, well so's bigfoot, and you believe in him. Now stop stalling already and fuck me."

The supper power laughed and unzipped his pants, "Can do."

* * *

Iceland woke up with a terrible hangover and chalk dust in places it shouldn't be. He took a few minutes to soothe the headache that was pounding in his forehead, and then slowly opened his eyes to look around. The room was covered in passed out nations. There were clothes strewn across the floor, hickies strewn across his chest, and he was lying naked on top of a pool table with a bomber jacket strategically placed over his groin. America was nowhere in sight.

Iceland rolled off the pool table with a groan and began to look around for his clothing. He found his pants and chest binder and pulled them both on. He found his shirt too, but it was drenched with an unknown liquid, so he decided to leave it there.

Checking to make sure his phone and wallet were still in his pants pocket and deciding that he had enough clothes on to go into the outside world, Iceland made his way towards the door.

He was halfway there when he was interrupted by a mug of hot coffee being shoved into his hand and a firm hand on his shoulder. Iceland turned around to see who had stopped him only to come face to face with a shirtless America

"Mornin'," America said, pushing the cup of coffee further into Iceland's grip.

"Oh..uh, yeah. Good morning," he replied nervously.

"I know you're on your way out the door," America said, taking a sip of his own coffee, "but before you go I just wanted to say, I won't go telling people you're trans. I know people think I'm kind of a blabbermouth, but your secrets safe with me, so don't go worrying that I'll out you or anything."

Iceland nodded at the statement, "Thank you, I appreciate that."

He really did too. He hadn't been thinking about it at the moment, but a few hours from now, once his hangover cleared up, he probably would have been an anxious mess over the possibility of America outing him.

"Course dude, no problem," America said nonchalantly. Then, with that conversation out of the way he smiled a the other boy cheekily, "So...you do that sort of thing often or am I special?"

Iceland just blushed.


	2. Week 10

Two months after the party, Iceland found himself lying on the cold tile floors of the Alþingishúsið bathroom. He was supposed to be in a parliamentary meeting right now but instead, he was fighting off a bout of nausea while one of his senators knocked rapidly on the stall door and called his name.

He had been feeling sick for the last five days or so. Well...okay, he'd been feeling gross for about three weeks, but Iceland didn't really count the fatigue and dizzy spells as part of his illness. Five days ago was when the nausea and vomiting started, and so five days ago was when he had gotten sick. Five day was, in his mind, also a short enough time that he should be able to just walk it off instead of going to the doctor. His human senators, however, seemed to disagree.

_Knock knock knock_

"Mr. Iceland?"

_Knock knock knock_

"Mr. Iceland are you alright? You did go to the doctors yesterday like I said you should didn't you?"

Iceland groaned and pulled himself up off the floor. He whipped his mouth with the back of his tie and rearranged his suit so it looked less wrinkled. Iceland  _did not_  like hospitals, so he figured it was in his best to look presentable. If he looked well enough maybe it would convince the man on the other side of the door that he was okay.

"I'm fine senator Jónsson," he mumbled, unlatching the stall door and stumbling out, "I must have eaten something bad."

"Hmmm," the politician said, crossing his arms and giving his nation the stink eye, "and I suppose you've just eaten something bad for the last week?"

"It hasn't been a week."

"It's close enough. Come on, I'm taking you to the doctors."

"What!? No! I'm fine okay. And anyway aren't you supposed to be on the floor? They're talking about an important bill out there, you need to vote."

"You are not fine. And that 'important bill' is about puffin tchotchkes. I think I can miss this one. Come on, we're going.

"Fine," Iceland conceded, giving a deep sight, "but we better not miss anything important while we're gone."

"Of course not sir. I'll have you back as soon as possible."

The nation nodded wearily and the two men headed out of the building.

* * *

Iceland flipped through an issue of Better Homes and Gardens while he waited for his doctor to appear with test results.

About half an hour ago the physician had asked for a blood sample and left him to wait. Now, after 30 minutes of sitting on an exam table and staring at the motivational posters on the walls, the door opened and the doctor walked in with a manila envelope in hand.

"Well congratulation Mr. Iceland," she said with a smile, "You're pregnant."

"Excuse you?" Iceland asked, sure he had heard her wrong.

"Well exactly what I said, sir. You're going to have a baby."

"No, I'm not," Iceland replied immediately, certain that his denial was justified. He was on T. He couldn't be pregnant.

The doctor gave him a baffled look, "Oh, uh, pardon me, sir, I see you're not planning to keep it."

"No, I mean I'm not pregnant," Iceland elaborated, "I can't be. I've been on testosterone for decades now."

"Oh, well uh," the doctor began, rubbing her hand across her neck in discomfort, "That's actually a very common misconception. You see taking testosterone can make it harder to get pregnant, but it doesn't actually make you infertile unless you take a fairly large dose, and even then it's not permanent."

"But-but," Iceland stuttered as the doctor's statement hit him, "I…I haven't had a period since the 90's. This doesn't make any sense."

"Well, that is curious…was there anything different about your last injection?"

"Well, uh, yeah…I was having bad mood swings so I used a lower dosage of T the last few times."

"That explains it," said the doctor with finality, "Your new dosage must not be enough to prevent ovulation."

Iceland nodded slowly as he took in the information. He was…pregnant…and he hadn't slept with anyone since the party so that meant it must be…. America's.  _Oh, holy shit_  this was  _not_  good.

"Mr. Iceland," The doctor said, breaking his train of thought, "I think you should be aware that you are eligible for an abortion if you want one. You're only 10 weeks along and you're not physically 18 yet, so the law is on your side."

"I'll uh…I'll think about it," he gulped.

"You have 6 weeks left to decide. It becomes illegal after that, so don't dawdle."

The younger man nodded hesitantly before taking the manilla envelope from the doctor and stumbling out into the waiting room. He thought he should be feeling panicked, or excited, or  _something_ , but instead he just felt numb. Pregnant. What was he supposed to do with that? What was he supposed to think?

He was so out of it that he almost walked right passed Senator Jónsson in the waiting room, only stopping when the older man tapped him on the shoulder with a concerned look.

"Are you alright sir?"

"I-ah..yeah."

"What did the doctor say?"

"He said that I'm-" Iceland started, before thinking better of it and giving the politician a week smile, "You know what, it's a long story. I'm gonna take the bus home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Jónsson blinked in surprise, "But I thought you didn't want to miss anything."

"I...I didn't, but, uh, some of the stuff the doctor said made me change my mind," he lied. In reality, he just needed some time to think, but Jónsson didn't need to know that.

"Oh, well, okay, I hope you feel better than."

"Okay, thank you. See you tomorrow."

The nation gave small wave goodbye before heading to the nearest bus stop. It was a bit of a walk, but he was so lost in thought that he barely noticed.

Should he get an abortion? The obvious answer was yes of course. He was 17, he was single, he could barely take care of his houseplants let alone a baby, the father was someone he barely talked to outside of parties and conferences, and most importantly, he had been hiding the fact he was trans from the world for centuries. If he let this pregnancy continue everyone would find out and they would judge him. His fellow nations and politicians might purposefully misgender him, or worse yet, they could hurt him, or exclude him from political meeting. It was hard to think about, but he knew that most of the other personifications weren't as accepting as his brothers.

But then again, he thought as he got onto the bus and sat down next to a woman with a giggling baby in her lap, kids were kind of...nice. Sure he had never really wanted kids before, but then, he had never really thought about it. He  _did_  know that he wanted to have bottom surgery sometime in the future, and after that, there would be no way for him to have biological children. Depending on what he did in the future, this could be his only chance to have kids.

He could adopt if he ever wanted to… but most of the kids up for adoption were humans not nations. The few personifications that had been adopted, like Sealand, were the exception, not the rule. In all likelihood, if he adopted his child would only be around for a few decades before dying like most humans did.

He could, if he really felt like it, obtain a colony...but unless you were lucky enough to find an uninhabited piece of land, having a colony usually involved killing another country. Iceland didn't think he would ever be up to that.

 _But you don't even know if you'll want kids in the future_  Iceland reminded himself.  _The vague possibility that you might want kids someday, is not a good reason to bring a child into the world._

He was just concluding that he should, in fact, get an abortion when the one-year-old next to him began to gurgle and clap its hands. It was ridiculously cute and it broke his resolve.

 _Anything that sweet and adorable can't be that bad can it?_ He thought,  _maybe I should continue the pregnancy? That little guy looks so delightful..._

So against his better judgment, Iceland decided he would wait a week to decide.  _That will be enough time,_  he concluded,  _I'll know by then_.

* * *

He didn't know by then.

This should have been expected really. Between frequent morning sickness and work, Iceland hadn't had much time to think, and even when he did have a moment to sit down and mull over his situation he wasn't the best at making big decisions.

Really he just wanted to call his brothers and have them tell him what to do. They always did what they thought was best for him, he knew they would make the right call. But recently Iceland had been trying to prove to his brothers that he was grown up enough to be left to his own devices, and grownups made their own decisions.

So seven days after his doctor visit Iceland sat down at his kitchen table, pulled a 5 krona piece out of his pocket, and flipped a coin like a goddamned adult.

 _Tails I get an abortion, fish and I keep it_ , he thought to himself, holding his breath as the coin flipped in the air.

When the Krona finally landed the side facing him showed a pair of jumping dolphins. Fish. He was going to have a baby.

 _God,_  he thought, stuffing the krona back into his pocket,  _if Norway ever finds out about my decision-making process he's gonna fucking slap me._

But for now Norway didn't know. Nobody knew about his predicament except for him and his doctor, and that knowledge was equal parts lonely and terrifying.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. The next seven months we're gonna be one hell of a roller coaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to be very clear that I know next to nothing about Icelandic politics so I'm just pretending that the Icelandic parliament works the same way the American Senate does (even if that's probably wrong).
> 
> In other news, Icelandic abortion laws are much stricter than I expected them to be. Like you can't just get one, you have to actually submit a reason for why you want one and it can't just be "I don't want a kid right now".
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated!


	3. Week 13

Iceland frustratedly tossed his skinny jeans to the side and reached into his closet to grab a loose fitting pair of cargo pants.

This was so unfair, he thought, it had barely been three weeks since he found out he was pregnant, and it had only been two weeks since he decided to keep the baby. How were his clothes already getting too tight? How was his baby bump already visible when he wore tight clothing? Stupid HRT preventing his period so he couldn't tell when he was pregnant.

Oh, and speaking of HRT, that was another thing that had him in a sour mood. Since deciding to keep the baby his doctor had told him to go off testosterone, which meant that now he was feeling anxious and moody from the withdrawal. Said anxiety and mood swings, along with the pregnancy, were making his gender dysphoria worse than it had been in decades. He could barely look at himself in the mirror anymore

And to top the whole thing off he was going to go see his family today. Usually, that would be a good thing, but this time he was going to have to tell them he was pregnant, and he was terrified. He hadn't told anyone about the baby yet, not even America, and he had no idea what to expect.

 _Delightfull,_  he thought,  _What a terrible fucking day this is going to be._

He buttoned up his cargo pants and sighed at the fact that they fit around his waist snuggly instead of falling onto his hips like they normally did. God, he was not looking forward to this.

* * *

The plane ride had been awful. He had been fluttery and anxious about telling his family for the whole trip and it wasn't helped by the fact that he had gone through three different barf bags due to morning sickness. He almost wished that the plane would crash just so he wouldn't have to do this.

But despite his feelings, the plane had landed safely in the Copenhagen airport and Iceland was now queasily making his way out of the terminal.

He was abruptly greeted at the bag claim when Denmark ran up behind the Icelander and wrapped him in a tight, bone-crushing hug that made it hard for him to keep his lunch down.

"Hi, Icy! How ya doin!"

"Fine," Iceland bit out, trying to keep his mouth closed so he wouldn't puke from the sudden pressure on his abdomen.

Denmark laughed and spun him around in response. Iceland was really thinking he might just vomit on the Danes face in vengeance at this point.

As they spun a harsh, scolding voice cut through the airport.

"Dan! Put him down!"It was Norway. Iceland didn't think he'd ever been more grateful to see his brother.

"Aww, but Nooooor," Denmark whined as put their youngest sibling back on the ground, "He's just so cute and huggable!"

"I don't care, we're in public," The Norwegian reprimanded before turning to Iceland, "Hello little brother, it's good to see you."

The older blond wrapped his arms around the younger man in a delicate hug, and Iceland hugged back, glad to have a firm body to lean against while he recovered from the dizzy spell Denmark's spinning had brought on.

"It's good to see you too Nor."

They stayed like that for a minute or two before letting go of each other. Iceland had only just gathered his wits about him when Finland ran up and captured him in yet another bone crushing hug.

"Icyyyyyy!"

"Huh-hi Finny. How-ugh-have you been?" he choked out, trying to hide just how nauseous he was.

"I've been good!" the Fin proclaimed, "I got a matching sweater vest set for Hana and me, and I went drinking with Estonia and Hungary on Wednesday and Sve gave me a new potted plant and it hasn't even died yet and-"

The excitable man was cut of by Sweden as he walked up to the group. He reached over to ruffle Iceland's hair in greeting before addressing the hyper Fin.

"Finland, we should be going soon. You can finish telling your story in the car."

The finish man nodded in agreement and the group walked out fo the airport parking lot and piled into Denmark's BMW. To his chagrin, Iceland got shoved into the middle seat between Norway and Finland.

The ride to Denmark's house was loud as usual. Between Den and Fin's chattering and Norway's griping, you could barely hear the thumping Danish rap that was playing on the radio. Iceland however, didn't really notice the ruckus that was going on around him. He was too busy queasing at every speed bump and sudden stop light to hear the others conversations.

It was Denmark's famously bad parking skills that finally put him over the edge. They pulled into the mans large driveway and the car began to jerk and sway as it found a place to stop. The motion was just to much for Iceland. He reached over Norway, opened the side door and hastily crawled over the other nation, before running for Denmark's nicely trimmed boxwood hedge and retching into it.

Norway ran out of the car after him with a look of concern and kneeled beside him to rub his back.

"Little brother are you okay? Did you eat something bad on the plane?"

Iceland just shook his head and continued to empty his stomach. God this day was just  _awful_.

Norway continued to sit with him while the other nordics unlocked the house and brought in his luggage. When the nausea finally abted his older brother helped him up and they went inside themselves. Iceland had to admit, he was feeling much better now that he had thrown up, but he was still anxious about the impending conversation with his family.

"So," Denmark began as soon as Iceland entered the living room, "What kinda party were  _you_  at last night? It must have been a helluva time if you're still hung over from it."

"I'm not hungover Dan. Jesus, why is that your first assumption?" Iceland groaned.

Denmark gave a sly grinned, and looked like he was about to answer the question when Finland cut him off, giving the youngest nordic a concerned frown.

"So what is it then. Do you have the flu?"

"No, it-it's not the flu," Iceland murmured. He could feel apprehension bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. This was it, he was going to tell them."I'm...I'm pregnant."

A heavy silence blanketed the room as the other men stared at him with shock. Denmark was clutching at the roots of his hair like the 3 pounds of hair gel he put in there each day was the only thing keeping him glued down to earth. Finland's mouth was hanging wide open like he was trying to catch a fly in there or something. Sweden didn't look all that different, but Iceland could see the slight widening of his eyes at the information. Norway looked...devastated. Like he had lost his first born. Iceland didn't really know what to think of that.

"What?!" Norway cried after a few minutes, breaking the silence much to the icelanders relief, "How?!"

"Three guesses," the young man quipped, trying to deflect his brothers distress with sarcasm.

"I mean clearly you had sex, but I still don't understand  _why_?" the Norwegian elaborted.

"Because it's fun? Also, I may have been a little bit drunk at the time, but that's really none of your business."

"That was incredibly irresponsible of you Iceland."

"Well maybe it was, but what's done is done. Not much I can do about it at this point."

"Well, you could get an abortion instead of ruining your life with an unintended pregnancy."

"Ehh," Iceland shrugged, doing his best to hide his emotions. On the inside he was panicked. Norway usually responded well to sarcasm but that  _hadn't worked_. Maybe if he acted casual about the whole thing it would help? It was worth a shot. "I considered that, but then I flipped a coin and the fates said I should keep the kid. Anyways, I don't think this is exactly  _life ruining_ , stop being so dramatic."

Norway put his head in his hands and gave a deep, soul weary sigh, like everything he had ever believed in had just crumbled around him.

"You flipped... A coin?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"That is  _fucking_  unbelievable little brother . Why would you think that's a good idea?"

"Hey! I don't know what  _you're_  so upset about,  _you_  were the one who used to tell me to listen to the fates. If I recall correctly you told me that the fates never made mistakes."

"Oh my  _god_  Iceland," Norway said, rubbing his temples rigorously like he was trying to scrub this whole conversation out of his memories in real time, "Asking the fates is for stupid shit like trying to decide what candy you should buy. Not for real, life-changing, decisions. I thought you were smart enough to figure that out. You can't let gravity and some small hunk of metal dictate weather or not you're gonna have a baby!"

He knew Norway was right of course. Norway was  _always_ right. But he had come too far on this one to back down now. If nothing else he would have this baby out of pure stubbornness and there was nothing his brother could do about it.

"Well geez" Iceland huffed, defensively, trying desperately to find a good argument, "you really uh... should have told me that before the fates made a decision. Now they'll get angry if I go against their word."

"That's not-" His brother began before stopping and letting out a deep, frustrated growl, "I raised you better than this Iceland."

"Well, apparently you didn't."

"Oh no, this is clearly Denmark's parenting at work."

"Hey!" The Dane interjected, finally coming out of shock "I didn't do anything!"

"Shut up Denmark, I'm in the middle of a conversation."

Norway sighed again and sat down heavily on the couch. He covered his face with his hands and took a few deep breaths before looking up again.

"Okay. okay," he said, more to himself then to anyone else, "You're pregnant, and...despite the fact that I disagree with your decision, you've decided to keep it. That's okay, we can work with this. This will be fine." He turned to Iceland and hesitantly looked up at him, "I just...I need to know one thing Ice...Who's the father?"

Iceland rubbed his hand across his neck nervously. He should have expected this question.

"It's ah...it's America," he squeaked out.

"You're dating America?" Finland asked, looking even more baffled than earlier.

"N-no. We... had a one night stand after a party...he-he doesn't know yet. That I'm pregnant I mean."

At that Norway gave him a look of deep, sincere, pitty. It hurt. Norway had never looked at him like that before.

"But you barely ever talk to America," he said, pointing out a fact that, until now, Iceland had been vehemently ignoring.

"I...I know," Iceland conceded, voice wavering.

"Little brother, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?"

"Are you mad Nor?"

"No Ice, I'm just disappointed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated!


	4. Week 16

"How are you?"

"I'm fine Nor."

"Have you eaten today?"

" _Yes_ , Nor."

This was becoming a daily occurrence.

Despite Norway's apparent disappointment with Iceland, he had still been calling every day at exactly 10 am to check up on him. When asked why he had simply stated that it was his 'brotherly dutty' to check in and take care of his younger brother while he was pregnant. Iceland, on the other hand, theorized that the man kept calling because he was actually somewhat excited to become an uncle.

"Are you sure your okay?"

"I'm  _sure_."

"You're absolutely positive?"

Iceland pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and held his cell phone away from his ear before letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

"Listen," he growled, bringing the phone back up to his mouth, "I have a prenatal exam tomorrow. If at the appointment, I find out that anything's wrong I will call you. Until then, it's safe to assume that I'm fine."

"You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow?" Norway asked, ignoring the unfriendly tone of his brother's voice, "When is it."

"It's at noon."

"Okay, I'll catch the next flight to Reykjavik so I can be there in time."

"Excuse you?!"

"Well I'm going with you of course," Norway said nonchalantly, " I mean, after all,  _someone_  needs to be there to give you emotional support."

"I do  _not_  need emotional support!" Iceland yelled back, "This is crazy, you're not flying all the way here for my prenatal exam!"

"Yes, I am. You might not think you need someone there now Iceland, but once you actually get to the doctor's office you'll be glad I came," Norway said reassuringly.

"Ugh, fine, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

"I love you too little brother," Norway singsonged, ignoring the others complaints entirely, "I'll call you when I land."

"Fine," Iceland conceded, "I'll see you then I guess. Bye."

He ended the call and looked around at his messy living room. If Norway was coming over then he would actually have to clean it for once.

God, he was tired. He just wanted to take a nap. Why did Norway have to be so difficult?

He sighed and headed to his kitchen, deciding he should deal with the pile of dirty dishes in his sink first. Today was going to be much more hectic than he had originally expected.

* * *

Norway got to Iceland's house at about a quarter to 2. Just late enough that the younger man had been able to clean up his house, but still early enough that he was dreading the number hours he would have to spend entertaining his brother.

"I'm here," the Norwegian called, walking through the front door without knocking, "where are you?"

"I'm in my bedroom," Iceland mumbled into his pillow. He had just finished cleaning the bathroom and was now lying face down on top of his bed. He was hoping to get a quick nap before Norway showed up, but apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

The older man somehow heard the Icelander, despite his muffled voice, and rounded the corner into his bedroom.

"You know," he said, seeing his brother's positioning, "It's not good for pregnant people to sleep on their stomachs."

Iceland rolled onto his back groggily and sat up, fixing the blond with a glare.

"Hello to you too Nor."

"I'm serious Ice, it's bad for the baby."

"Please, that's for when you're like, big. I'm only four months along."

Norway cocked an eyebrow and moved to sit down on the bed. He reached his hand over to the others belly and graced his fingers over the now hard-to-hide swell.

"I don't know," he said with a smirk, "Seems like you're getting pretty big to me. You sure there's only one in there?"

Iceland batted his hand away with a growl. "I'm not that big!"

Norway just laughed and ruffled his brother's feathery hair. "Yeah  _sure_ , whatever you say Ice."

"I'm not!" Iceland insisted, "god, you're such an asshole sometimes."

"I'm your big brother, that's my job."

"Whatever," he huffed, "Why are you here so early anyway. We've got almost a whole day until the appointment."

His brother shrugged, "I'd rather be early than late."

"I mean I guess. I didn't even ask you to come in the first place."

"You'll be glad I'm there."

Iceland only snorted. "Whatever you say Nor."

* * *

The appointment went fine at first. They got there almost an hour early thanks to Norway's constant nagging about punctuality, they finished the check-in paperwork with plenty of time, and the young Nation was able to get a lot of his questions about pregnancy answers.

However, as soon as the doctor pulled out the ultrasound machine Iceland began to feel jittery. He had never done anything like this before.

"Would you like to see your baby Mr. Iceland?"

"Uh, ye-yeah, sure," Iceland stuttered. He could feel butterflies starting to flutter about in his stomach.  _This is it_ , the thought,  _I'm really gonna have a baby, I'm really going to_ see  _my baby for the first time._

"Lift up your shirt please."

Iceland did as he was told, shivering a bit as the doctor put a cold gel on his stomach. The doctor turned on the ultrasound machine screen and began to move the wand across the nation's belly. The screen was fuzzy and grey for a few minutes before a small object came into view.

"There we are," said the doctor, holding the wand in place, "look there," she pointed, "you can see the legs and the head, and oh, what's that?" she wondered out loud, moving the wand to the left.

"Wh-what do you mean. What's what?" Iceland asked nervously. Was there something wrong?

"Just give me a second," she answered, continuing to move the wand across his stomach until something came into view. It was...another baby.

"Well, my goodness!" She exclaimed, eyes widening an the sight on the screen, "Mr. Iceland it appears that you'll be having twins."

"Having  _what_?" Iceland yelped, feeling his heartbeat quickening at the revelation.

"Twins!"

"Yeah, I uh, I heard you the first time I just...oh my god."

He felt dizzy. His, vision was clouding. He saw the doctor wave a hand in front of his face, He saw her wipe off the wand and reach to check his pulse, He saw his brother stand up and come over to him, and then, before he could see anything else, he passed out on the exam table.

* * *

When Iceland woke up he was on the passenger side of his car and Norway was driving them both home.

"Well hey there sleepy head," Norway chuckled, seeing that his brother had finally woken up, "how ya feelin'?"

Iceland only groaned in response.

"Guess it was a good thing I came along after all huh? You were out cold there for a bit."

"Now  _really_  isn't the time to congratulate yourself," Iceland gripped, leaning his head against the window.

"Fair enough," the other conceded before switching the topic to address the elephant in the room, "so...twins. How are you gonna manage that?"

"I don't know," Iceland sighed.

"You're gonna get  _huge_."

"I  _know_."

"And then you're gonna have two infants at the same time."

"God, I know. This is terrible."

"I hate to be that guy, but I did  _tell you_  that keeping this pregnancy was a bad idea."

"Yeah I know you did Nor, you don't gotta rub it in," Iceland responded.

They were quiet after that. Norway driving down the highway and Iceland stewing in his own emotions.

 _God_ , the Icelander thought as he began to realize just how far in over his head he was,  _what am I gonna do? I can't raise two kids alone, I'm only a teenager. Maybe America will help but he's a teenager too and he doesn't even know yet. I don't even know if he would want one kid, let alone two. I should have listened to Nor. I can't believe I ruined my life with a coin flip. Fuck, why am I so stupid?_

Iceland felt a tear slide down his cheeks and brought a hand up to cover his face.  _God, now I'm fucking crying like some kid. I can't do anything right_.  _What the fuck is wrong with me._  He began to weep into his hands. Shoulders shaking and breath hitching with each sob.

Norway glanced over at his brother and brought a hand down from the steering wheel to rest on the other man's knee in comfort.

"Don't worry little brother," he murmured gently, trying to calm the younger man down, "You'll get through this. No matter what happens the other Nordics and I will be here to help you. You'll be okay."

Iceland only nodded and continued to cry. He really had messed up big on this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated!


	5. Week 18

Iceland lay down on the hotel room bed with a deep, bone-weary sigh.

He had spent the last two weeks in a state of, if not depression, then at the very least, persistent remorse. That said, he was going to have to get over his emotional turmoil in the next five minute or so because it was eight pm, he had a NATO meeting tomorrow morning at nine, and he needed to go find America in the next two hours if he didn't want to have to awkwardly tell the man he was pregnant with his kids in front of twenty seven other nations.

Yes, he had finally gotten big enough that he couldn't pretend he wasn't pregnant anymore. This, unfortunately, meant that he also couldn't put off having the hard conversation with America or the anxiety-inducing moment of coming out as trans to the rest of the world. He was not excited for this meeting to say the least.

He shifted on the bed in discomfort and sighed again, trying to think the best way to approach America. God knows he couldn't just go looking for him, he had barely managed to make it to his hotel room without being stopped by another nation, and the American was so extroverted that he was probably somewhere crowded. Somewhere where lots of people would notice the Icelanders baby bump. No, he had to get him someplace alone, so he could have this conversation in private, and there was only one good way to do that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, looking through his contacts.  _Thank god for texting_ , he thought before clicking on America's number and sending the first message.

**Iceland: Hey can you meet me at my hotel room, I need to talk to you about something**

The response came a few minutes later.

**America: Right now?**

**Iceland: Yes right now**

**Iceland: It's important**

**America: Uh, okay**

**America: What room is it?**

**Iceland: 420**

**America: HAHA, BLAZE IT!**

**Iceland: This is serious America!**

**America: Oh, okay, sorry dude**

**America: I'll be there in a sec**

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Iceland pushed himself off the bed to go answer it. He did his best to hide his growing belly behind the door as America came in, but once it was shut there was nothing he could to prevent their conversation.

The taller man sat down on the bed before facing his host. He took in the Icelanders apperance and immediately locked eyes with Iceland belly, mouth agape.

"Holy shit dude, what happened to your stomach?!"

"I-uh. Well, see that's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about," Iceland mumbled.

"Did you get sucked into some crazy alien experiment? Cuz if you did the hero can totally help you with that!" America declared, confidently pointing to himself with his thumbs.

"No, it's not-"

"Oh! Or maybe you like, accidentally swallowed a bowling ball. Dude, I did that once, it was  _awful_. Much sympathy my guy."

"I didn't sw-"

"Wait wait, did you-"

"SHUT UP AMERICA!" Iceland yelled, easily getting fed up with the man's rambling considering his already high stress levels, "It's not  _any_  of those things, I promise. And how do you  _accidentally_  eat a bowling ball anyways?"

"Oh well, you see-"

"No! No more talking! I asked you over here for a reason, now let me speak."

America went dead quiet, something he didn't do often, and looked at the other man with wide eyes.

"Thank you," Iceland huffed, sitting down next to him, "So uh...you remember that party a few months ago where we slept together?"

America nodded.

"And you remember how I'm actually a trans guy?"

America nodded again.

"Yeah well ...uh… it turns out that...you, um...got me pregnant."

"Oh shit."

"With twins."

"Oh  _shit._ "

"I  _know_."

"I'm gonna be a  _dad?!_ " America asked.

"Yeah…" Iceland admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I mean...I just did.."

"I know, but I mean sooner! Like you're clearly pretty far along."

"I'm...I'm only four months, and well uh...I didn't really know myself until about two months ago and then I was… kind of scared to tell you."

"Why?" the other demanded, a deep, frustrated crease forming on his brow.

"Well I don't know, I... thought you might hate me or something and like...refuse to help with the babies. I don't know."

At that America stood up angrily, giving Iceland an absolutely withering look. "What the  _fuck_ man! Do you actually think that poorly of me? Like I know people think I'm an asshole, but England raised me right, I wouldn't just abandon my kids.  _Jesus_."

"I...I know, I'm sorry America."

The taller man pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and took a deep breath.

"Listen. This is a lot to take in. I need to go take some time to think okay? I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Iceland nodded and America left the room. He had to admit, while that hadn't gone great it had gone  _much_  better than he expected. Now he would just have to get some sleep and pray that tomorrow went half as well.

* * *

Iceland was slow getting ready the next morning, mostly out of nerves. He knew that after today everyone would know that he was trans and it terrified him. What if one of the other nations tried to hurt him? What if they wouldn't let him use the men's bathroom anymore? What if the other nations got so upset that they placed sanctions on his country? He hoped of course that they wouldn't but there was just no way to know. He would be the first nation to ever come out as trans, had had no idea how people would react.

As a result of his anxiety induced dawdling, he ended up being the last nation to enter the meeting room. When he did show up, however, he, and his change in appearance, quickly became the center of attention.

"Mr. Iceland," Germany addressed him, staring at his plump belly as he entered the room, "Do you um...do you have something you wish to inform us of? It uh...well, it appears that your nation has ….undergone changes that your allies should know about."

If the situation hadn't been so serious Iceland would have laughed at the Germans awkward phrasing, but as it was, he was to nervous too even smile.

He sat down in his chair before answering, lowering his head so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with anyone as he spoke.

"I uh...yes I do have something to say actually. I-um... I'm pregnant."

"What!" Someone gasped.

"How?!" another cried.

"That's impossible!" a third nation yelled.

The room was quickly falling into chaos. Iceland didn't bother looking to see which nation had said what. He kept his eyes focused acutely on the table.

After a few minutes of yelling and bickering, Germany took command of the room again. "Everyone be quiet!" he shouted. The room went silent. "Now I know we are all very confused right now, but I promise you will all get your answers more quickly if we handle this in an orderly fashion," he turned to Iceland again, addressing the young nation firmly, "Now Iceland how is this possible? You're a man, aren't you?"

Iceland cautiously lifted his gaze to meet his interrogator's eyes before speaking. "Well Mr. Germany," he said evenly, trying his best to hide how anxious he was, "I am a man, but I'm transgender so I still have all of the parts required to carry a child."

"Oh, I s-" Germany began, but he was quickly cut off by Slovakia of all people.

"So you mean you're a girl." he stated, giving the island nation a challenging look."

"No Mr. Slovakia," the Icelander said slowly, trying to stay calm, "I'm still a man, I just happen to have different stuff between my legs."

"Which makes you a woman," he insisted.

"With all due respect sir, no it doesn't. That's not how gender works," he responded. God this is exactly what he had been afraid of

"Yes, it is!" Slovakia hissed angrily, "You're delusional if you think otherwise!"

Iceland was about to respond when, much to his surprise, America came to his defense.

"Hey, why don't you bug off Slovakia," The superpower growled, "How Iceland identifies in none of your damn business anyway."

"Oh? And why do you care? By that same logic it's none of your business what I think of her either."

"It's _exactly_  my business what think about him, now fuck off!"

"Really? And why's that America? Because you think you're some big damn hero who needs to defend the damsel in distress? Is that it?" Slovakia goaded.

"No," America bit out angrily, "It's because I'm the father!"

The room went dead silent. Even Iceland was a little bit shocked. He had only just told America he was pregnant, he hadn't expected him to have adjusted to the idea yet, let alone defend him. He had to say, he was touched by the gesture.

Germany turned to Iceland, looking somewhat distressed. "Is this true?" He asked.

Iceland nodded and the German man sighed, reaching up to rub his temples,

"Well congratulations to the both of you I guess," he said wearily.

Slovakia opened his mouth again like he wanted to continue the argument, but Germany cut him off quickly. "Alright everyone, let's get back to the meeting agenda, we have a lot to do today."

* * *

Four hours later Germany announced a lunch break.

Iceland had barely gotten up to leave when he felt a strong, possessive, arm encircle his waist. He looked up hesitantly only to find America's bright blue eyes gazing down at him intensely.

"America?" He questioned, unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Hey babe," the other man replied. His voice sounded slightly strained, but more importantly, it was loud enough for the whole room to hear. The Icelander wasn't quite sure what to think.

He was just starting to adjust to the others firm grip when suddenly America leaned down to kiss him. It was uncomfortable and forced, and Iceland would have pushed him away if it weren't for the many other nations in the room watching them. Instead, he let the other's lips linger for a minute before pulling away.

"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered harshly into the other's ear, still close enough to the other man that no one else could hear them.

"Just go with it okay. I have a plan," America reassured.

"Oh, do you now? And would you mi-"

The taller man cut him off with another kiss. It was just as awful and unappealing as the first one.

The American straightened up after that and raised his voice several octaves until it was practically booming like a sports announcers.

"Come on sugar, let's go get some food. You're eating for two now after all!"

He steered Iceland out of the conference room at a brisk pace, much to younger man's distaste. He was still confused and disgruntled, and being dragged around by a superpower was not exactly his idea of a good time.

After a few minutes of walking, he was pushed into an empty office. America followed closely on his tail, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

The island nation quickly began to grow nervous. Baby daddy or not, being locked in a small room against your will by the strongest nation in the world never amounted to anything good.

"Wh-what are you doing?" He stuttered, backing up against the wall so that America had to face him.

The other country put his hands up in a show of peace, "I'm not gonna yell at you or hit you or anything," he said calmly, "we just need to talk. This place is private"

"Well, you could have just asked me!"

"No, I couldn't have."

"Why not!" Iceland demanded, "and what was that kiss about anyways?"

America sat down heavily in a swivel chair and leaned forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees. He looked thoughtful. It was an emotion the other had never seen on him before.

"Iceland, Slovakia isn't the only other nation who's going to have a problem with you being trans. You're a smart guy I think you know that already."

Iceland nodded. He was viscerally aware of that fact.

"You were really lucky that Slovakia only wanted to argue with you. We both know that when the rest of the world finds out there's a good possibility someone might want to try and hurt you for it. But… if you've got someone on your side that people are scared of, someone like  _me_  for example, they'll be less likely to actually get violent with you.  _That's_  why I kissed you in the meeting room. We want people to think that I'm invested in  _you_ , not just the babies. If people think you're my boyfriend they'll leave you alone for good. If people just think I knocked you up on accident then your association with me will only protect you as long as you're pregnant."

Iceland could only stare at the other man. He had never heard him talk like this. Like he was discussing strategy.

"That-that's," he began, trying hard to find the words to respond, "that's actually...really smart…"

"Of course it is. Do you think I became one of the greatest superpowers in the world by being an idiot?"

"I-I mean yeah, I guess so," Iceland admitted, "you always  _act_  like an idiot anyways. I guess I just sort of figured that you had stumbled your way to the top an accident."

Instead of getting mad like Iceland thought he would America just smirks. "Good," he said, "that means I haven't lost my touch."

That's when the wheels in Iceland's mind stop spinning and everything clicks into place. Of course.  _Of course_. America is an  _actor_. And not only that he's a good actor. He had been sense Old Hollywood first danced its way onto the big screen. It made perfect sense that a nation with that amount of talent would try to use acting to their advantage on the world stage. America wasn't stupid he was...playing dumb as a political tactic.

"Oooh," Iceland breathed out as the realization hit him.

"Yeah," America grins, giving him a wink, "Now you get it."

The pregnant man thought quietly for a few more moments before asking yet another question. "But I still don't understand...your plan...it only helps me, not the babies. Why would you put so much effort into something like that."

America gave an award-winning smile that the other now recognized as intensely fake, "Because I'm the hero!" he proclaimed, "what good guy wouldn't want to see his baby mama safe and happy?"

Iceland gave him a withering look, "first of all," he said tersely, "don't  _ever_  call me your baby mama again or I swear I will call down the old gods and send them after you. And secondly," he pointed his finger at the other dramatically to accentuate his point, "I think we've already established that you're whole 'bumbling hero' routine is a sham. Now, what's the actual reason?"

The superpower laughed at his serious expression, "Duly noted  _mama_ , it won't happen again. And if you want my real reasoning, I'll tell you, but it's not that deep. I just want healthy kids, my dude. If you're always stressed out about what other nations might do to you then all that anxiety is going to affect our babies. It just seems better for everyone if we do it this way."

"You've really put a lot of thought into this huh?"

"Well, kind of...after our conversation last night I went and had a talk with England. He helped me figure some stuff out."

"England told you to kiss me in front of all of NATO?"

"Uh...no. I came up with that one myself. He mostly just reminded me that my first responsibility in this situation is to be a good dad, which I guess is obvious, but you know sometimes you need someone else to say it for you."

"Yeah, I get that."

"Oh, but speaking of doing things for the babies, I'm moving in with you."

"What!?" Iceland screeched, almost falling over at the casual statement. Way to drop a fucking bombshell on him. Where the hell had that come from?

"Yeah, I was thinking about it, and especially once you're bigger you're gonna need help around the house. It'll be easier if I'm just there from the get-go. Not to mention that we'll make a much more convincing couple if we're living together. It's a win-win situation."

"And I don't get any say in this?" the Icelander grumbled.

"No, not really."

"You know it's  _my_  house right? I might have some opinions on this."

"You have a guest bedroom don't you?"

"Yes...I do."

"Well, then there shouldn't be a problem."

Iceland sighed and went to go sit down on the windowsill next to him.  _This is going to be a god damn disaster_ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are always welcome!


	6. Week 20

It had been about a week and a half sense America had moved in and things were finally starting to settle down.

Explaining the whole situation to his brothers had been a hassle. Iceland had hoped for things to go smoothly, but in the end, the conversation had turned out to be mind-numbingly circular. After a while it had turned into "yes we're living together, no we're not dating," and "yes he did kiss me, not it's not like that," on repeat until the other Nordics were finally able to get the idea through their thick skulls.

The other nation that had been a damn trial to deal with over the last few weeks was England. Boy, was that man a pain in the ass and a half.

Iceland understood  _why_  America wanted him around of course. Between needing help with moving, and simply needing emotional support while he reconciled the fact that he was going to be a father, it made perfect sense that he had wanted the Brit around. That said, Iceland was  _not_  happy about it. The last time the two North Atlantic islands had held a civil conversation had been in WWII, and since then there had been three cod wars, the Eyjafjallajökull airplane traffic debacle, and that one incident with the ghosts in the British consulate. Suffice to say the relationship between the two was tentative at best and Iceland really didn't understand why America couldn't have just asked Canada to help him move instead. He actually got along with Canada.

But as obnoxious as Iceland's found the other island, today all of that was inconsequential. America had finally moved all of his stuff into the guest bedroom, England had flown back to London, and the two, soon-to-be parents were finally getting a day of rest.

The pair sat in the living room with the lights off, with only peaks of sunlight slipping through the closed window shades. America's face was awash with the colors of the first person shooter game he was playing and Iceland was lying languidly on the couch. Usually, the younger nation would have joined the other, seeing as it was a multiplayer game, but today he had opted to wallow in self pity instead.

Yes, that's right, self-pity, because being pregnant was  _terrible_. He was a little more than five months along now, and while the morning sickness had finally stopped, it had been replaced by plenty of other things to complain about. For starters, he was big now. Not so big that he had to waddle, or struggle to bend over yet, but still big enough that it threw off his center of gravity and made him clumsier than usual. He had broken three of his favorite mugs in the last week because of this problem and he was still upset about it. Next on his list of complaints was his chest. It was sore as hell, bigger than it used to be, and he couldn't wear his binder anymore because it was bad for the baby, and it  _hurt_. This combined with his baby bump, meant that just about everyone he met assumed he was a girl and it gave him intense body dysphoria to the point that he didn't even want to leave the house anymore.

To top it all off there was the issue of energy. It wasn't exhaustion, no, he had actually been quite hyper lately, but between perpetual leg cramps, and the fact that his growing belly had compressed his lungs to the point that even a walk in the park made him out of breath (something that was quite frankly, concerning considering his history of asthma) there was no good way from him to deal with his exes energy. Instead, he simply wallowed in it, letting it turn into anxiety and jitters. Not exactly the healthiest thing to do, but it was kind of his one option at this point. Well...he could do yoga, but like hell, was he going to go do stretches with a bunch of other pregnant ladies. How embarrassing would that be?

And that didn't even cover the mood swings. Oh, my god,  _the mood swings were-_

"Hey Ice, you wanna play this next game with me?" America asked, breaking into the others less than pleasant thoughts as he removed the game he had just completed.

Iceland just groaned. Quite frankly anything that required him to get up off the couch was beyond his scope of interest right now.

America sighed at his response before switching off the gaming console and standing up. He flipped the lights on and proceeded to hover over the Icelander with an outstretched hand.

"Come, on. Get up," he demanded.

"What?" Iceland whined, "no. I don't  _want_  to."

"You've been lying on the couch all day Iceland. It's not good for you. Now come on, we're going to go sit out in the yard and eat ice cream. You need sunlight."

Iceland sighed and turned away from the other in defiance. "You do know that I have partial albinism right?" he questioned, "If you take me outside I'll just be miserably pregnant  _and_  sunburnt."

"What are you, a vampire?" America scoffed, "put some sunscreen on if you're that worried about it."

"What makes you think that sunscreen would protect on my pale ass skin? That shit is useless and it's kinda gross too."

"Okay...so wear a sunhat."

"What? Eww, no. It's barely even spring yet, people will look at me funny if I do that."

"Fine. Burn then you fucking creature of the night, I don't care. We're still going outside," he stated, forcefully pulling the other nation off the couch, "now come on."

Iceland grumbled as he was dragged to his feet, reluctantly going to find a sunhat while America pulled the Ice Cream out of the freezer.

When they were both ready they wandered out into the garden and found a place to sit in a patch of lupins.

"Nice flowers," America said, glancing at the purple buds as he filled a bowl with strawberry ice cream and handed it to the Icelander.

"Thanks, but they're weeds," the younger man informed, taking the bowl and scraping out a chunk of frozen strawberry with his spoon.

The supper power snorted, "pretty nice weeds if you ask me."

"They're bad for the ecosystem."

"Maybe, but they're a damn sight prettier than the dandelions and kudzu at my place."

"Kud-zu…" Iceland said, feeling out the unfamiliar word, "what's that?"

"Hmm? Oh, Kudzu is an East Asian vine plant. It's actually pretty good eatin' if you know how to prepare it. But see, the government introduced it to the south in the 1870's as this sort of miracle crop. You could eat it  _and_  it kept the soil from eroding. Win-win right? Problem is, it does a little bit too well in that climate and now it's taken over that whole region of the country. The damn thing practically grows in miles per hour. It's ridiculous."

Iceland chuckled over the other man's passionate dislike for the plant, before nodding in understanding. "Yeah, that's kind of how it is here with the lupins," he explained, "we introduce them as nitrogen fixers thinking they would make the farmland more fertile, and in all fairness they did, but they also pushed out a lot of the native flowers and lichens. Everything looks different since we imported the lupins. I mean they're pretty, but they change the look of the landscape so much ya know? I go to these places that I remember being mossy and rocky and suddenly they're covered in flowers instead."

America nodded sympathetically, "seems to me that if humans need to bring in plants from the other side of the planet just to keep the soil arable after a few years of farming then maybe there's something wrong with their farming techniques. But then what do I know, I only lived through the dustbowl right?"

Iceland snorted. He didn't know much about American history, but he still knew enough to find the others sarcastic comment funny. He should have expected the superpower to have some opinions on farming technique. Maybe sometime after the kids were born they could compare livestock rearing methods.

He smiled at the thought as he took another bite of his ice cream. This was nice, having another nation to talk to about country stuff. Another nation  _besides_  his brothers that is. It was a breath of fresh air. In fact, all of this was nice. The light breeze blowing through his hair, the partly cloudy skies that kept the day from being too hot, the sound of nesting puffins drifting over from the shoreline, the sweet flavor of ice cream, the soft grass tickling his feet. This was one of the best, if not days, the at least moments, he'd had in a long while.

"Hey America," he began shyly, not really wanting to admit that the other nation had been right about the outdoors.

"Yeah?" the other said through a mouthful of ice cream.

"Thanks for making me go outside. I needed this."

America grinned around his spoon before taking it out of his mouth, "I know ya did buddy, that's why I dragged you out here. You've been stuck inside for to long."

Iceland nodded in appreciation, before looking down and focusing on his ice cream. They sat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, just eating and listening to the birds. It was quiet and tranquil, or at least it was until the garden gate creaked open and a man in a business suit walked into Iceland's yard.

 _Oh shit_ , Iceland thought, snapping his head up to see who it was. He immediately recognized the intruder and he was not excited to see them.  _What the hell is my boss doing here_?

"Mr. Iceland," his politician greeted, giving him a pleasant nod, "we've missed you the past few months,"

Iceland gave a guilty frown and dug his hands into the grass around him nervously. Okay...so, he might have been skipping work ever since he started showing, but in his defense though, he'd still been doing as much work as possible from home and it's not exactly like they could fire him over it.

"S-sorry about that sir."

The president waved his hand dismissively, "You still filled all of your paperwork, so I'm not too mad about it, although I think we will be having a discussion later about communicating your leave of absence beforehand. But that's not what I'm here to talk with you about. I've been hearing some interesting rumors about you Mr. Iceland, I wanted to come and ask you about them myself."

Iceland gulped. He knew  _exactly_  what those rumors were and he wasn't too excited to hear his bosses thoughts on them. Instead of answering he opted to look down at his swelling belly, placing a hand over it protectively. He realized as he did so that he looked like an absolute mess. Between the sweatpants, ugly maternity shirt, out-of-season sun hat and the light pink ice cream mustache on his upper lip he looked like a fucking disaster.  _God_  his boss must be so disappointed in him right now.

The human man didn't comment on his wayward appearance though. Instead, he crouching down in front of his nation and placed a gentle hand over his nations stomach. "So the rumors, are true then?" he whispered, "You really are trans, and you really are pregnant?"

He nodded weekly in response. There was no hiding it at this point.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry sir. There's been a lot going on lately and I wasn't really sure how to bring it up."

The old man gave him a soft smile, "I understand. But Iceland if something like this happens again I would appreciate hearing about it from my own country."

The nation nodded again and the president pulled his hand away from the boys baby bump. Standing back up from his crouching position, he turn to the blond nation sitting beside his country and reaches down to shake his hand.

"If all the rumors are true then you must be America."

"Yes sir," the bespeckled nation replies, standing up as well so he could shake the other man's hand more firmly.

"You take care of my country now. I would hate to see anything bad happen to him."

"Of course sir."

"Mr. Iceland," the politician said, breaking the handshake and looking back down to the man sitting on the ground, "I would like to see you back at work on monday. Now that your situation is out in the open I don't see any reason why you should be missing meetings."

"I'll be there Mr. President."

"Good, that's what I like to hear."

He walked back out of their yard, promising to see his nation again on Monday before stepping back into his car.

The two nations both stood still for a minute, silently contemplating what had just happened. Then America sat back down on the grass and Iceland to grab the dripping carton of ice cream. He looked into it with a grimace.

"It's melted," he said, trying to re-start their conversation.

"Sure is."

"There are bugs in it now."

"I thought your country wasn't supposed to have bugs."

Iceland just laughed,"There are bugs in every country America,"

Things today weren't perfect, Iceland thought, but having America there really did make everything a little bit better. Maybe this wouldn't be a disaster after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, Iceland's boss is loosely based off of Guðni Jóhannesson, but I think putting real people in fanfic is kinda weird so I didn't use his name or anything.
> 
> Also, I know I kinda brushed over Ice and England's relationship because this chapter was just sort of meant to wrap up the whole "everyone finds out" section of the story, but y'all have no idea how excited I am to write these two interacting later. If anyone's wondering about the little historical tidbit about the ghost in the consulate, that was, in fact, a real thing. Apparently, the British consulate building in Iceland was rumored to be haunted and the English ambassador demanded that they move the consulate's location after finding out. If you don't believe me go look up Höfði, it's all there.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated!


	7. Week 23

England was in Iceland's dining room, eating his food, drinking his bilberry tea, and of course, because he was England, complaining.

"Well," the British man huffed, taking a sip of his drink, "I suppose this is alright, but it's no earl grey."

Iceland just ground his teeth and kept quiet.

England was over here visiting  _America_ , not him, and seeing as the superpower had been cordial with the other Nordics when they came over he would try and be pleasant for England. That didn't mean it was easy though. The man had waltzed in like he owned the place (of course he did the damn colonialist) and immediately started griping about how terrible everything was. He had only been here for two hours and the pregnant nation was already trying to figure out a way to punch him in the face while making it look like an accident.

"Hmm," the Englishman mumbled, picking up a freshly baked kleina and eyeing it suspiciously, "what is this exactly?"

"It's just fried dough," Iceland said tersely, pretty miffed at the fact that the United Kingdom of all people would question his cooking.

"Is it safe to eat?"

On the other side of the table, America gave an unattractive snort. "Compared to your food it's a fucking delicacy."

"Excuse you, my cooking is  _fine_. And anyway, at least I wasn't the one who came up with grits. That stuff is disgusting."

The American raised a cocky eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee before responding. "You know why you don't like grits old man?"

"Why's that?"

"Because you keep trying to eat them plain."

England's face turned red with what was either frustration or embarrassment and Iceland had to suppress a giggle. He wasn't entirely sure what grits were, but he was delighted by how upset the man was, even if that made him a bad person.

"But-But isn't that how you're supposed to eat them?!" The man sputtered.

America shook his head morosely and took another sip of coffee.

"Well-well fine then," England huffed, crossing his arms childishly before finally taking a bight of the kleina.

He let the bread linger in his mouth for a few minutes before swallowing. "...I guess this is pretty good."

God, this guy was just too much. Iceland simply couldn't hold his snark back anymore. " _Oh what high praise_ ," he crowed, flinging his arm over his face dramatically, "And from the master chef himself too. Thank you for bestowing your glorious approval upon my pastries. I don't think I could live any longer if you didn't like them."

England looked furious and America almost choked on his drink from laughing too hard.

"How dare you!" the Brit growled.

"How dare I what?" Iceland challenged, setting his tea down, "You're being an asshole. I'm mean Jesus, can't you at least  _pretend_  to enjoy things?"

England bristled, "I don't know  _what_  you're talking about. I've been perfectly pleasant this whole time."

"Hmm, yeah, pleasant like a pile of rotten fish."

"Hey!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I forgot. You don't know what a pile of fish looks like because  _I'm_  the one who won the cod wars."

"I only lost because you kept threatening to pull out of NATO!"

"Maybe, but you still lost three different territorial disputes to me. Considering that my country doesn't even have a military that's pretty pathetic. Personally, I don't even know how you show your face in public anymore.  _Such_  an embarrassment," Iceland goaded.

America was practically wheezing from laughter at this point, but the two island nations looked almost ready to start a fist fight at this point, and that would  _not_ be good for the family dynamic, so he decided it was about time to intervene.

"Oh-okay guys. Come on, break it up," he gasped, trying to hide his smile.

They both glanced at the blue-eyed man before nodding reluctantly and the room fell into a tense silence as the two continued to glare at each other across their teacups.

America's grin turned into a nervous line and he chuckled anxiously, "So how about that weather?" He said.

* * *

Six hours later America had gone out to pick up Thai food, England had ended up in the liquor cabinet somehow and was now thoroughly drunk off Brennivín, and Iceland was trying desperately to keep from sobbing.

The pregnant nation simply couldn't handle this. He was hungry and tired, his mood had been swinging like a 1940's dancehall all day, and now he had been left alone with cantankerous incarnate. It had only been twenty minutes sense America left and he was already trying hard to keep back the tears.

"My goodness, you look like an absolute  _whale_ ," The Brit observed, reaching clumsily over the coffee table to pat his belly.

"I-I d-don't r-re-"

"I mean you're just absolutely  _huge_."

"I-I'm n-n-no-"

"I know you're having twins but really."

Iceland didn't know why he was so upset. He knew he was big. Of course, he was, he was 6 months pregnant with twins. He was even waddling a bit by now. But some combination of hormones and his dislike for England had him absolutely blubbering over the accusation.

Sure he wasn't crying  _yet_ , but he was gonna be if this kept up. As it was his eyes were already shiny and he was trying and failing, to calm himself down by taking deep breaths. England was too drunk to notice any of this.

"So I have to know, how  _did_ you seduce America into getting you pregnant?"

"I-I di-dn't s-su-du-"

"You know honestly Iceland, I never really took you as one to sleep around. You always came across as more of a mousie, spinster type. But then, maybe that's what America likes about you."

"I-I'm n-no-t m-ou-mou-sie," Iceland wailed, finally bursting into tears.

This was terrible. He didn't even like to cry in front of his brothers, let alone a nation  _outside_  of his family..

He buried his face in his hands to hide the water tracks that were quickly appearing on his cheeks and took short, hiccupy breaths through his sobs. God, he was so embarrassed.

England's eyes widened as the younger nation started to bawl. He set his tumbler down, hurried around the coffee table and tentatively reached out to pat his back. He and Iceland didn't exactly get along well, but that didn't mean he wanted the other nation to  _cry_.

"I...I'm sorry if I upset you in some way," England said softly, guilt spreading it's way across his features as the alcohol in his system broke down his emotional barriers, "I didn't mean to."

Iceland pushed him away and scooted as far away from the Brit as he could while staying on the couch. "I-if yo-you di-did-n't me-mean to the-then why wh-where you be-bei-ng s-so me-mean t-to m-me."

"Whaa?" England slurred, clearly confused by the statement, "I'm not being mean."

"J-just, g-g-go aw-ay," Iceland sniveled. He was far too upset to listen to the other man.

England frowned at the situation. He was just about to try and reach out to the volcanic nation again when America walked in holding a number of to-go bags and distracted him.

When the superpower saw the father of his children sobbing on the couch he stopped dead in the doorway. It took him several minutes to really comprehend what he was seeing, but once he had adjusted to the visual he dropped the food onto the table and hustled over to the couch, pulling the smaller nation into a somewhat aggressive hug as he tried to calm him down.

"Hey dude, what's wrong?" he asked, patting the shorter man's back awkwardly.

Iceland didn't say anything, and instead simply pointed an accusatory finger at England who was now standing off to the side uncomfortably.

"What did you do?" America demanded, looking up at his former caretaker defensively.

"I don't know!" the Brit cried, "We we're just talking and suddenly he burst into tears!"

"N-no," Iceland mumbled through his hands, "h-he s-sa-id I was uh-ugly."

"I did no such thing!" England insisted.

"Y-yes yo-you d-did. You s-said I was f-f-at and th-then ca-called me mu-mousie. You th-think I'm uhg-ly."

The islander gave the two younger nations a frustrated pout. "I didn't call you fat, I said you were big. And I didn't mean mousie in an insulting way, I know some very pretty mousie people."

Iceland barrel heard the others drunken attempt at an excuse. He just cried harder.

America pulled the sobbing man closer and gave an exasperated sigh. "England," he said, "why don't you go sit in another room or something while Iceland calms down."

"What!" The older man yelped, "I'm a guest in this house, I shouldn't have to-"

The American cut him off with a pointed look and he resigned himself to his temporary isolation with a nod, heading off into the rest of the house.

With the disruptive nation gone, the superpower turned back to the crying Icelander with a frown.

"When's the last time you ate something bro?"

"I-I don't know," Iceland hiccuped.

"Hmm, you probably have low blood sugar. Here," he said, reaching over and opening a to-go bag. He pulled out a cardboard box full of Phat si-io and a plastic fork, before handing them over to the sad pregnant man, "eat this."

The shorter man did as he was told, ruffly wiping the tears from his cheeks in between mouthfuls of noodle. It only took a few bites before he started feeling better. Maybe he really had just been hungry. Fucking hormones turning him into a crying mess.

He leaned back on the couch and continued to eat. He had gotten halfway through the box and had almost re-composed himself completely when he suddenly felt a small flutter in the bottom of his stomach. Iceland dropped his fork into the Phat si-io as his eyes went wide.  _Was that-_

"Hey, what's wrong my guy?" America asked, noticing the others change in attitude.

He felt the fluttering sensation again, this time in a different spot.  _It was, that was-_

"I felt the babies move," Iceland whispered as he realized what the sensation was.

"Aw, nice man!" America grinned, "I can't wait till their big enough that I can feel when the move too."

Iceland ignored the other's response. He was too caught up in the feeling of his stomach. The light feathery movements were breathtaking and beautiful. Like snow falling on your fingertips or the way waves just barely touching your toes before they reseed. It was amazing.  _There really is something in there_ , the thought,  _these little guys are really alive._

"Oh my god they're  _moving_ ," he repeated, smiling as the waterworks turned back on and happy tears began to slip down his face.  _They're moving. They're moving._

America took the box of noodles out of the other man's hands so he wouldn't spill them and patted him on the shoulder with a chuckle. "Talk about mood swings huh?"

"Sh-shut up."

The bespeckled nation beamed at him before raising his voice so he could call into the other room.

"Hey Iggy you can come back in now!"

A few seconds later the brit appeared in the doorway and looked over the two teen nations with a huff.

"Why did call me back in here? He's still crying."

"Yeah but it's not your fault anymore."

Iceland choked out a laugh as he let the tears fall. His babies were really moving. How exiting was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> England? My least favorite character? It's more likely then you think.
> 
> Anyways, if you don't know about the cod wars, then please go look them up, that shit's ridiculous, you have no idea.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews are always welcome!


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